January 19, 2025

Second Sunday after Epiphany, Year C

John 2:1-11

Epiphany, Winnipeg

The funny thing is, nobody knows what Jesus did. Well, his mom knows; I think moms just know stuff. So do his disciples, just a few random people chosen from nowhere special who were at the wedding with him. And the servants, the ones Jesus told to go and fill some jars with water…the servants…they know. The head waiter, who’s running the whole party, doesn’t know. A servant just gives him a drink, and he swirls it and sniffs it and swishes it and swallows and says, “Wow, this is great wine!” And he goes and says the the groom, “That was smart. Crazy. Extravagant. You two waited for everyone to have enough and more than enough of the so-so wine, and then you put this very best vintage in front of them! You are over-the-top generous.”

But the groom doesn’t know what happened. The bride, or the other groom, or whoever, they don’t know either. The servants, a few disciples, and Jesus’ mom, they’re the ones who knew what happened. It’s all kind of a behind-the-scenes thing, and for all we know the wedding guests didn’t notice a thing. While they celebrated and partied, unbeknownst to them the wine ran out. But before they could notice that it was gone there was more wine, and the next time they called for a refill there was wine and wine to spare. There’s no fanfare and nobody notices. Just a few disciples, the servants, and Jesus’ mom. They see Jesus, they see all that wine flowing when just minutes ago there was no wine, they see Jesus, who didn’t have a secret supply of wine somewhere that he tapped at the last minute. They see Jesus, who just made wine when there was no wine.

Jesus, quietly and behind the scenes, revealed his glory right there. Mostly unseen, urged on by his mom – “Come on, Jesus, they’re out of wine.” He doesn’t say anything more than “fill those jars and fill up a glass.” That’s how Jesus makes wine at a wedding that has run dry. And his disciples believed in him.

And did you notice? Jesus doesn’t wave his arms or lay his hands on the jars or fill the cups himself to turn it all into wine. There’s just a spoken word: “Fill those jars and fill a glass.” And where the word is spoken, there’s life. Remember the gospel reading a few weeks ago? “In the beginning was the word, and word was with God, and the word was God…and the word became flesh and lived among us?” In the beginning a word spoke life into being: Let there be light, and earth and sea and sky, and people….and now the word quietly says (so quietly we can’t hear it), “Let there be wine,” and the life and celebration go on…

The simple and grand promise of the whole thing is that there will be new wine. When it seems that life only holds jars of stale water, or water that’s no longer safe to drink, there will be new wine. That’s the beginning and end of the story, really…and that word will speak life into being on and on and on and on forever and ever. Amen.

(that’s not the end of the sermon though…)

You know, I just find this all hard to figure out sometimes. Or just hard to remember. I first really noticed this story when Val and I chose it as the gospel to be read at our wedding. Well, we both first noticed it when the pastor who married us held us spellbound in the living room at a marriage preparation session, while they talked about new wine, and hope, and goodness restored when everything’s gone wrong, and relationships made alive again when it just seemed like the jars were empty. Largely because of that moment, I’ve preached on it so many times, at a bunch of weddings and every time it shows up on the Second Sunday after Epiphany every three years. I’ve milked it for every ounce of good news it has: that no matter how dry and empty and lifeless life can be, there will be new wine. Because Jesus made new wine, because God made new wine when Jesus lay lifeless in the tomb, and new wine poured out of the tomb and the big promise that holds all creation together is that there will be new wine and the celebration and the life will not end.

So I've gone around the block with this one a lot of times. And I love it. Did you notice?

But you know… Here’s what happens to me sometimes, a lot of times. Things like this: After the U.S election way back in November, when I was supposed to be relaxing and getting refreshed and being so peaceful on sabbatical, my spirit sunk for days.

I forgot about the new wine. I saw everything falling to pieces, I feared for my neighbours to the south, and I was so mad that things could turn out that way, and I wondered if it was all just another sign of how the world is doomed.

I forgot about the new wine.

That’s not the only time. I know I might present as having kind of a sunny disposition, but I don’t necessarily… Sometimes I go to the news looking for bad news or something to get upset about, as though I’m drawn to that, to seeing what kind of dumb or enraging or frightening thing is unfolding next. Like I can’t help but expect the worst, so I might as well just look for that.

Sometimes I forget about the new wine, even though I’ve preached about it and thought about it and been at Bible studies about it more times than I can count. But any time this story of a wedding and water turned to wine comes along, I hear it again and see it in my imagination and maybe even conjure up the taste and I’m reminded and I remember that Jesus makes new wine. So when the pitchers full of joy and life and peace and hope and faith and laughter and whatever else makes life so full are empty, Jesus makes new wine. Even if the world itself seems about to draw its last breath, Jesus makes new wine. God is staying at the party, and there will be new wine.

Which is maybe another way of saying that life will win. Or that hope doesn’t run dry. Or that Christ is risen. Or that Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.

When do you forget about new wine? And when do you need to hear the story again? When do we....?

On this last Thursday evening a few of us from Epiphany gathered together with a few other people from Lutheran congregations in Winnipeg, and with Deacon Michelle Collins and Rev. Rachel Twigg from our Synod Office. We came together to talk about our church – a little bit about the MNO Synod, but a lot more about our congregations. We talked about the realities that we face, like that there’s not the money there used to be, and there aren’t as many people as there used to be, and some talked about how there are no young people in the church which is not actually the case because there are young people in the church. In any church, in the whole church. And we talked about our fears, like what if we had to let our buildings go, or what if the money runs out, or what if we who are leaders now aren’t the leaders the church really needs, or what about my kids?

But thanks to some good guiding along by Rachel from Synod Office, and thanks to some stories we all shared about things we’ve seen and things we’ve hoped, we never got to the point where we thought the wine had run out. Instead, people talked about good things that are happening at their churches. There are volunteers, there are people, sometimes more, sometimes fewer, but there are people, and young people. Groups and organizations in the community work or worship in our places. The wine hasn’t run out. And we talked about our hopes or new possibilities, like church buildings that are too big being turned into affordable housing – new wine for people who need a place to stay – or bringing our congregations together to share worship and work…tasting the new wine of new relationships and new opportunities. Or not being tied to buildings and maintenance but having all that money and time to use for being the church, being new wine, in the world.

In those stories we told and those hopes or dreams, if you listened closely you could hear Jesus saying, “Fill those jars with water, dip a cup, see how it tastes.” And there was new wine.

Where do we need to hear of new wine? And taste new wine? We’re coming into a new era, so they’re predicting, in our life in this nation, in the U.S, in the world. There are people who are really afraid or angry or anxious about it. And there are people who feel that the wine has already run out, and maybe some new politics and new leaders will fill the jars again. There are some who don’t bother to pay attention any more, convinced that there just won’t be anything new. And so many of us will be divided because of it all.

Where else do the jars of life seem empty?

For all of us, there will be new wine. We don’t know what it will taste like, whether it will be red or white or rose or some colour of wine nobody has thought of yet, or maybe it’s hard to believe, or maybe we can’t imagine how it could possibly be. But Jesus will never stop saying, “Fill those jars with water and see what happens. Dip your cup, hand it over to someone else, have a taste yourself.” That’s the good news we share.

And today we have gathered for a taste of new wine. Jesus’ mom will be there, and those disciples, and maybe the head waiter, and the wedding party, and all those guests who didn’t even see what happened will join us too. Everyone who has tasted the new wine will be with us – this is a big party – and the jars full of water become wine and the cup that is shared will be new, the good wine, always new….